


Sweetheart Coma

by Hannibal_X_Will



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Carl Grimes - Freeform, Coma, Established Relationship, Hurt Daryl, Hurt/Comfort, In Love, M/M, Motorbike accident, No Apocalypse, One Shot, Protective Rick, Rick and Daryl live together, no zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibal_X_Will/pseuds/Hannibal_X_Will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl's involved in an accident and ends up in a coma, Rick refuses to believe he won't wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetheart Coma

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random one shot that came into my head and demanded to be written. It's rubbish but I hope you like it. Sorry for any mistakes.

Rick had just pulled up in the driveway when he got the call. He had groaned as his mobile buzzed across his dashboard as he switched off the engine of the police cruiser and sat there for a second, rubbing a hand over his tired face. The temptation just to ignore the call and go inside and collapse into bed beside Daryl was almost too much. But the nagging voice in the back of his head wouldn’t allow him to do that so he had grudgingly picked up the mobile and raised it to his ear. 

The moment he heard the woman’s voice on the other end something inside of him ripped a hole through his chest. He didn’t remember what the woman said exactly, he could only recall words. “Daryl”, “motorbike accident”, “coma”. 

Rick didn’t remember driving to the hospital the other side of town, the only thing he recalled was the ringing in his ears and the dim flashes of blue light. He had abandoned the car outside the front of the building, forgetting the turn off the blue lights and only just slamming the door behind him. Racing into the hospital he had forced his way between the automatic doors in his haste – they opened too slowly. The receptionist recognised him – everyone knew everyone in their small town – and instantly directed him to Daryl’s room. 

The world had fallen away around Rick the moment he first saw Daryl lying in the bed, IV and blood drip in his arm, the breathing ventilator attached to his face. There were grazes all over his skin from where he had come off his bike despite the fact he had been wearing his leather gear. Across his cheek there was a deep gash kept together with white stitches and his head was wrapped in thick bandages. His right leg was in plaster and raised off the bed. 

Rick’s knees had given way and he slumped in the doorway, only just managing to grasp hold of the frame to keep from hitting the floor. There had been voices behind him trying to calm him down, telling him to breathe, to stand up straight, but all Rick could focus on was Daryl lying beaten and still on that bed with its clean sheets. 

Eventually a nurse had gotten him out of the doorway and into a chair beside the bed. The instantly he was in reach he took Daryl’s hand, holding it tight and bring it to his mouth to kiss. He was shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps, tears filling his eyes and blurring his vision. 

The nurse had fetched the doctor and he had explained to Rick that a car a crashed into Daryl on his bike from the side, the driver had been drunk at the time and was downstairs in police custody with a broken wrist and a fractured collarbone. 

Daryl’s leg was broken in two places, three of the ribs down his right side were fractured and his head injury was severe. The doctor said the coma was Daryl’s body’s way of trying to protect itself but Rick could hear it in the man’s voice, he didn’t expected Daryl to wake up. 

That had all happened hours ago, Rick hadn’t moved from Daryl’s bedside despite everyone’s urges. Michonne, Glenn and Maggie had arrived around 8am, hugging him and telling him it would be alright, that Daryl was strong, that he would pull through. Rick didn’t say a word, just nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat whilst trying not to start crying again. 

Around lunchtime they had left to go and get something to eat, leaving him alone with his misery. Getting up from the chair, Rick crossed to the window and looked out at the busy car park. He noticed someone had moved his car and parked it properly. It was a nice day, the sky was clear and bright blue, by the look of the trees dotted about there was little wind and the temperature was pleasant, warm enough to not merit a coat but still cool enough not to stick the back of your shirt to your back. Today was Saturday Rick realised, he and Daryl had had plans to go out of dinner, celebrate having the house to themselves for the last weekend before Carl and Judith came visiting next week. 

Carl and Judith! A jolt shot through Rick and he spun around, they didn’t know! Guilt twisted his stomach with a knife and he stumbled back to the chair where the jacket of his sheriff’s uniform was draped over. Finding his mobile, he sank slowly down onto the chair and dialled Lori’s number. Shane picked up on the fourth ring. 

“It’s Rick,” he said as calmly as he could, his voice rough with lack of use and exhaustion. 

“Jesus, Rick, you sound beat. What’s up? Everything ok?” 

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Rick asked, “Is Carl there?” 

“Yeah...yeah sure, man, hold on. Carl! Your dad’s on the phone.” 

In the background Rick heard his son shout he was coming and suddenly the tears were welling up out of his eyes again. Daryl was just as much as a father to Carl and Judith as he was, how could he tell him what had happened over the phone? 

“Hey, dad, what’s up?” Carl’s voice couldn’t deeper on the phone and Rick forced himself to remember that his son was no longer a kid, he was seventeen years old, almost a grown man. 

“Carl...” He began, the words choking him, “It’s...it’s Daryl. He’s...” 

“What’s wrong, dad? I can hardly hear you. Something about Daryl?” 

He could hear the worry in his son’s voice and he forced the words out, “Daryl’s been in an accident, he’s in a coma.” 

“Oh my god,” Carl breathed, “Is he ok? What happened? What did the doctor say?” 

“N-no,” Rick croaked, wiping the tears off his face with the back of his hand, “he’s not ok...the doctors don’t know if he’s gonna...” His voice broke and he sniffed loudly, “If he’s going to wake up –“ 

The sob tore up Rick’s throat and he gasped, covering his mouth with his shaking hand. Maggie suddenly appeared round the door and took one look at Rick’s tear-streaked face and darted to his side and took the phone from his hand before he dropped it. 

Sobbing, Rick lurched to his feet and leaned over Daryl’s prone form, burying his face into the side of his head. He smelt of iodine, disinfectant and blood. Hands groping, he balled the fabric of the bed sheet up in his fists as his shoulder quaked with every wracking sob. 

“Please,” he wheezed, eyes clamped tightly shut and nose pressed to the faint beating of Daryl’s heart at his throat, “please wake up. Come back to me. Don’t leave me.” 

The rest of the day was a blur. He was sleep deprived; words no longer made sense to his ears and his vision began to slide in and out of focus. When the nurse came to wheel Daryl’s bed out of the room to run some more tests Rick tried to stop her from taking him. He was delirious, distraught and had to be restrained. After that the doctor gave him a sedative and he slipped into a sleep as deep and heavy as death. 

When he awoke, slumped painfully in the same chair, Daryl was back from his tests, the repetitive clicking of the ventilator and the beeping of the heartbeat monitor sounded as sweet as birdsong to his ears. There was a bunch of flowers on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before. 

Carl stood at the end of Daryl’s bed, his hands gripping the frame so tightly his knuckles were white. His dark hair was swept back and his clothes were rumbled. There was the telltale darkening of stubble on his jaw and his shoulders were broader than Rick remembered. It had only been a month since he last saw his son but he had growth up so much since then it might have well have been a year. 

“There’s no change,” Carl said in a detached voice, gravelly with pent-up emotion, “the scan showed no change. At least he hasn’t gotten worse.” 

Rick pushed himself to his feet and Carl met him halfway, throwing his arms around his father’s shoulders. Rick hugged his son fiercely, noticing that Carl was now taller than he was. He snorted, knowing that Daryl would make some sly comment about that when he woke up. 

“You look good,” he told Carl when his son pulled back from the hug. 

“You don’t,” Carl muttered, though his eyes were fixed firmly on Daryl, “I left Judith at mum’s. I didn’t tell her...I couldn’t.” 

Rick nodded, “I think that’s best for now.” 

“The flowers are from mum,” Carl said gruffly, jerking his head at the bunch. 

“That’s...nice of her,” Rick didn’t know what else to say, all he could think of was that flowers were for funerals. 

They fell into silence which was only broken when Glenn poked his head round the door to tell them that he, Maggie and Michonne were going home but to call them the moment there was any change. The thought of going home to an empty house filled Rick’s heart with dread so he quickly dismissed the idea despite the fact that he really needed a shower and a clean pair of clothes, he was still in his uniform after all. 

Carl seemed to read his mind and he asked, “Do you want me to swing by your place, grab some stuff?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Rick said, handing his son his keys and watching him leave with an odd sense of warmth seeping into his otherwise leaden heart. 

“You’d be proud of him,” Rick murmured to Daryl, slipping his hand back into the partner’s, “he’s growing into a fine man.” 

The change of clothes helped slightly, as did the coffee and burger Carl brought back with him. The nurse brought in another chair for Carl and father and son sat side by side, watching the slow rise and fall of Daryl’s chest. Bruising was blossoming like flowers over his skin and Rick found himself absentmindedly tracing one across the back of his hand with his thumb. 

As night rolled in once more, Carl drifted off to sleep, his head falling onto Rick’s shoulder were it stayed till morning. Rick managed fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn, his eye lids too heavy to keep open any longer. 

When morning came the rays of golden sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, burning into Rick’s eyelids and drawing him from his fitful sleep. He groaned, rubbing his face and feeling the scratch of stubble. Blinking blurrily, he sat up, wincing as his back throbbed painfully, protesting at the rough treatment it had been receiving. 

A hoarse chuckle reached his ears and Rick froze. 

“Getting old?” Rasped a weak but familiar voice and Rick’s eyes flew open to see Daryl smiling softly at him from the bed. A nurse hovered in the background, putting away the breathing ventilator before slipping quickly out of the room to give them some privacy. Carl mumbled in his sleep, trying to curl up on the chair and failing. 

“You...you’re...” Rick stammered, not daring to believe his eyes, thinking he was still asleep, “Am I dreaming?” 

“Bloody well hope not coz I feel like shit,” Daryl huffed. Rick rose slowly to his feet and stepped to the edge of Daryl’s bed, holding his breath. 

“Hey,” Daryl said weakly, “It’s alright. I’m ok. Quit looking at me like I’m a ghost or something.” 

Rick sprang at Daryl, catching his face behind his hands and crushing their lips together. Daryl grunted in pain and Rick quickly let go. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I –“ 

“-Rick,” Daryl interrupted, “Never apologise for kissing me.” 

Relief flooded through him, filling his body till he felt like he was floating. To keep him grounded, he reached out and cupped Daryl’s face gently this time. 

“Never ever do that to me again,” Rick demanded, his eyes burning with tears, but different to the ones from before. 

“I didn’t intend to,” Daryl grumbled, though his own eyes were wet and his lips turned up in a soft smile. 

“Can I try kissing you again?” Rick asked breathlessly. 

Daryl chuckled, “As long as it’s a kiss not an assault. Don’t think my body could take it.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Rick growled, lowering his face to Daryl’s. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Daryl murmured against Rick’s lips as the other man kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment :) If you're interested in more Rickyl fics from me I've written a longer AU called 'A Twisted Tale', feel free to check it out, please and thank you. x


End file.
